One of the elements of my job is incorporating the State Seal of Ohio into various documents and publications.  I’m familiar with its history and different forms.  Just for you, to help move this story along, here’s what the seal looks like:

Legend has it that the seal is the depiction of the sun rising over Mount Logan (in Southeastern Ohio) from outside the home of Thomas Worthington, one of the fathers of Ohio Statehood.  The river, bushel of wheat and sheaf of arrows all have their own meaning as well.

The Civee and I both took the day off today.  We wanted to go hiking in a state park, but ended up exploring the City of Chillicothe and Adena, the nearby state historic site which is also the aforementioned home of Governor Worthington.  I was looking forward to seeing the actual view that inspired the state seal.  One of the guides at the museum told us it wasn’t quite exact.  He was right:

Granted, I didn’t expect to get there early enough to see the sun rising between the mountains.  And I didn’t think there would be arrows or wheat laying around.  But there’s no river.  And while it is an incredible view, it just doesn’t feel like the seal.

This is more like it:

People often ask me why and how I ended up in Columbus.  Having grown up in the New York/New Jersey metropolitan area, Columbus is a totally different place and experience than what I was used to.  I ended up here because nine months after graduating college, it was the location of the first place (in my then-career of broadcasting) that offered me a job (and I’ve stayed for other reasons).

I had interviewed at a few other television stations in the months following that walk down the aisle set to Randy ‘Macho Man’ Savage’s theme song, but no luck.  So I had an interview with a station here in Columbus almost ten years ago (give or take a few months) provided I could get here on my own.  Not knowing the city, I booked a hotel room (in some online deal) and drove myself out here in my 1986 Buick Century Limited (which even then, was real old).  The hotel was located off of the intersection of Morse Road and Interstate 71,  which, upon my arrival, I found was not close at all to the location of my interview.

The day before the interview, I pulled into Columbus, with plenty of time and energy to waste.  The hotel clerk mentioned a nearby mall, so I headed a few miles down Morse to Northland Mall.  It wasn’t the most modern mall, nor the most lively, but it wasn’t a horrible place to pass some time (however, had I known Easton was a few more miles down the road, I may have skipped Northland entirely).

Did well in the interview, drove back home (at 2 in the morning), and a month later, got the job.  Moved out to Ohio, packing the Limited full, and drove out with King Classic, who helped me look for an apartment.  I found something on the other side of town, much closer to the station.

Even now, I live on the same side of town, and while I’ll go to the eastern side of town for some things, I really haven’t spent much time in that Morse Rd./Northland area.  I was aware that a few years ago, they tore Northland down, because after Easton (and Polaris), business just dried up.

Earlier today, I had to attend a meeting at the Department of Taxation, based in a new building located on the spot of the former Northland Mall.  It was weird going back to this place where even though I spent only a few hours, I had so many vivid memories.  The nervousness, boldness, loneliness and hope I felt that night before the interview all came back to me.  I don’t want to say Northland was a special place (although to some, I’m sure it was), but the memories just hit me again.

Here was this brand spanking new building taking up space on the lot on which, nine years and ten months ago, I had parked the Limited while looking for a way to waste a few hours.  The only remnants of a mall was a lone anchor store, standing vacant without any identity, resigned to an unknown fate.

The last time I was there, I was full of emotion, uncertain of the future.  Today, I went back, just another day.

In some ways, the past ten years have gone by quickly.  It’s striking that I’ve been here this long to notice changes like this.  I think the me back then would have been happy to know that things ended up the way they did.  But then again, I think I expected it.

Well, this weekend The Civee and I had a chance to expand that knowledge- we were invited to a birthday party for her sister Saturday held on one of the rooftops across the street from Wrigley Field.

We decided to head up there Saturday morning and return this (Sunday morning).  With the game starting at noon (Chicago time) we figured we’d have enough time to get to Chicago, park at the hotel and take “The L” up to Wrigley in time for the first pitch.  We hit Chicago at 11, and seemingly, our plan was looking pretty damn good.

We got off the highway and on to Columbus (the street our hotel was located on) and all of a sudden, we were greeted by hundreds of cars not moving.  Columbus, it turns out, was closed.

In the great tradition of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and The Fugitive, there was a parade in Chicago yesterday.  Not only did we have to seperate from the conglomeration of cars turning downtown Chi-town into a parking lot, we had to navigate to our hotel before we could carry out the rest of our plan.

Eventually, we managed to make our way to the hotel, but we pulled in the parking lot at 12:05 and our plan was shot to sunshine.  We did make it to Wrigley by the top of the third, which wasn’t that bad, considering we were set back an hour.

Still, I couldn’t get upset–the parade goers all had Polish flags, scarves, t-shirts and other paraphernalia.  Turns out it was the annual Polish Constitution Day Parade. As we sat in traffic, I actually considered ditching the ball game and joining my bretheren in celebration of the ratification of the world’s second-oldest democratic constitution.

But we had a ball game to go to.

The rooftop experience was fun. I wasn’t surprised that most of the people on the rooftop weren’t there to watch the game (especially with the free food and drinks).  It was nice to see former Yankees Ted Lilly (8 IP, 1ER, 10K) and Alfonso Soriano (2-5) have a good day.  It was even nicer to not get hassled for wearing a Yankees cap.

After the game, the Civee and I got back on the L and walked around the city a bit.  It was fun and we’d like to go back sometime for more than just a day.

If we do, our experience (and the movies) have taught us there will be a parade that day.

Had to work there again for a few days this year, and it was a bit underwhelming.  There wasn’t a governor going down the giant slide, nor was a woman asking me to get her dying husband into the free Grand Funk concert.

But considering it’s been hot and is supposed to get hotter, I’m glad my fair days are over for this year.

This was the view from a hotel room in Dundee Michigan. I dropped a few bucks at the outlet. But the best part was the free samples.

She had gone there a few times on her own, but wanted me to go along in case we wanted to make any furniture purchases. Last weekend, we were in Cincinnati visiting relatives and had some extra time, so we stopped by Ikea.

I have to say the place actually made furniture buying interesting. The prices were decent, and the furniture was actually nice. But what made the place totally worth the trip was the meatballs.  The Civee had told me that while shopping, we could get some metaballs, which I envisioned as getting two Swedish Meatballs with a toothpick off a tray somewhere.  But no, this was much more.  Not some toothpick-stuck meatballs on a greasy napkin, but the promise of a full meal.

There’s a full-scale cafeteria in the middle of the store, with plenty of menu options.  I got the meatballs, with a side of mashed potatoes and jam.  For like five bucks. And it was damn good. There were a bunch of other items on the menu (Gravlax, half-chicken, Prime Rib) that I intend to try on future trips to Ikea.

For the first time in my life, I’m actually looking forward to going furniture shopping.  The Swedish are really on to something there with this food-in-the-middle-of-the-store concept.  Who knows, if IKEA had been around when my parents took the younger King Tom furniture shopping, I might not have been such a bratty kid.

My grandparents live an hour north of New Orleans, across Lake Ponchartrain.  This was my first time to the area in four years. My grandparents’ area was hit by Hurricane Katrina (as was pretty much everything else down there), and while life is back to normal, things definitely look different than a few years ago.

We spent most of the weekend with my grandparents, eating breakfast (The Civee and I are not regular breakfast eaters) and doing family things, but for a few hours Sunday, The Civee and I had a few hours and a car to ourselves.  We didn’t have enough time to go into the city, so we decided to drive around in the backwoods and not-so-backwoods of the North Shore of the Lake. 

While driving around, we drove over a bridge spanning the Tchefuncte River (pronounced Chee-Funky) into a small town called Madisonville. On one side of the river was a large marina. On Madisonville side, a row of restaurants.   We parked and walked around for a while, eventually deciding to stop at Morton’s, a bar and restaurant with an outside deck facing the river.

I have to admit, one of the things that drew me to Morton’s (considering all the restaurants had decks facing the river) was the sign to the left, promising hot boiled seafood.  The Civee and I got an outside table and just enjoyed ourselves by talking and watching the boats and the moving bridge.  The bridge we passed over was a Swing Bridge (check out the wikipedia link for a cool animated image), which would open every half hour for about five minutes to let marine traffic through.  While watching the bridge was fun, the fulfillment of the advertised seafood was even better. 

Because we had breakfast a few hours earlier, I didn’t think I could finish off a whole tray of boiled crawfish, so I opted for two broiled soft shell crabs, which were damn good.  I also helped myself to some of The Civee’s Mahi Mahi, which was also superb. 

After eating and sitting around for a while, we found our car and started to head back.  But as we got the car going, we noticed we had just a minute or two before the next closing (or opening, depending on your point of view ) of the swing bridge. So we high-tailed it out of Madisonville, lest we be held up.

Even though we sped out of town, it was a nice place, one I wouldn’t mind going back to (if only to polish off a plate of boiled crawfish).

I’ve been in their stores in various malls many times. But I don’t think I’ve ever bought anything from them. Regardless of how cool it might be to own the life-size Darth Vader costume, the R2-D2 that really works or the Trump Steaks, I never really wanted to spend my hard-earned money there. Apparentley, I wasn’t the only one who felt this way.

One of my most memorable “shopping” experiences happened in a Sharper Image, probably about 10 years ago. I was hanging out with my brother Pete, who, at the time was about 12. We stopped in to the store and started browsing. They had two of those massaging chairs set up and I sat in one. I have to admit, it was quite comfortable. I told Pete that he had to try it out, so he sat in the other one. As soon as he did, some salesman in his mid-30s came over and said to Pete, “Excuse me, sir, but you have to be 18 to use the massaging chairs.”

I laughed so hard (especially because of the emphasis the guy put on the “sir”) that I almost fell out of the chair.

Well now, lil’ Petey is old enough to try the chair. Too bad SI is closing all those stores.

However, I was a bit offended the other day when I read that the forthcoming game would not feature Staten Island, because (according to Wikipedia):

Rockstar believes it would not be fun to play there

Not be fun? We’re talking about the home of what was the world’s largest garbage dump! New Dorp! The fishin’ hole! And now, the mysterious Ninja Burglar!

He is brazen enough to enter a home through an open garage door in the morning and sneaky enough to slip through a skylight under the cover of night. He always wears a black ski mask, seems to consider himself a jewel thief and strikes with a disregard for whether anyone is home.

And to anyone who would take the other side in the great Ninjas versus Pirates debate, I ask you, who ever heard of a Pirate Burglar?

I became a Yankee fan through my father and grandfather. Both were fans, and it was easy to become a fan in New York with games always on television or on the radio and Yankees stories in the paper.

My parents divorced when I was young, and while I lived year-round with my mother in Staten Island, I spent a lot of time (weekends, holidays, summers) with my father in New Jersey.

I was lucky growing up that during summers, even though he lived in Jersey, my father would take me to a few games each year. We eventually purchased the ‘Sunday plan’ for 1997 and 1998. When I was old enough, I’d go to the stadium with friends, or even by myself for a time or two. I don’t remember every single time I’ve been to the stadium, but here are some of the most memorable and entertaining (at least to me). I should thank Retrosheet for filling in the dates for some of these.

My first time at the Stadium was July 22 1984 (I was six years old), for a day game against the Twins. Our seats were on the first level, behind home, but up. Dave Winfield hit a home run in the first, and the Yankees won in the bottom of the ninth as Willie Randolph singled in Bobby Meacham. I remember Sgt. Slaughter was in the owner’s box and they showed him on the big screen during one of the breaks in between the innings. I was just getting into wrestling at the time, so it was neat to see the two worlds collide.

In addition to my father taking me to games, every summer, when my mother enrolled me in the YMCA day camp (at Camp Pouch on Staten Island), I’d go to games organized by the camp. The seats were always horrible (in right field fair territory, all the way up on the third level). We’d do a lot of chanting- specifically for Dave Winfield. Every now and then, we’d get a wave (too bad we didn’t do it for the whole team, then we’d have created the roll call ten years early). One game I remember was August 24, 1988 (I think it was my second-to-last year in camp). The Yankees were down 4-1 going into the eighth. Don Slaught hit a sacrifice tie to bring in one run, but that was it for the eighth inning. It was at that point our counselors decided to bring us back to the buses. As we filed out of the stadium, Scott Neilsen gave up two more runs and more fans started leaving. We made it out of the stadium and back to the bus as the bottom of the ninth was starting. But some of the groups from our camp hadn’t made it back, so we stood outside the bus as the game continued inside the stadium. One of my friends bought those in-ear radios they used to (probably still do) sell at the stadium gift shop and was listening to the bottom of the ninth on it, letting us know what was going on. The fans inside were cheering–a Ken Phelps home run tied up the game and a Rickey Henderson single won it for the Yankees, as we waited outside the stadium. And we missed it all. It was a good thing there was only one day of camp left that year, because the counselors were not popular people.

After I graduated eighth grade, my father was able to get some tickets for a day game. The tickets were about five rows behind the Yankee dugout. The game was in July of 91 vs. Seattle. The Yankees lost, but before the game I got Mike Ferraro’s autograph. I remember before the game watching the players on each team talk with each other (BP was cancelled that day on account of clouds) –the one thing that still stands out to today is watching our rookie Bernie Williams laugh and joke around with Ken Griffey Jr. It’s weird looking back and thinking about this today, because in my mind, I can still see those “kids” joking around and having a good time.

In my freshman year of college, my father got the same exact seats for the second home game of the ’96 season. The Yankees beat the Royals thanks to Jimmy Key (he didn’t do that great that day, but he and Cone were my favorite pitchers and it was good to see Key back on the mound after missing most of ’95 due to injury) and a Ruben Sierra home run. Before the game, Wade Boggs was signing autographs for a group of kids. I went down with my yearbook, and Boggs said he’d sign for me after he signed for the kids. I was kind of talking to him as he was signing, but after a few minutes Willie Randolph called him over. But then Derek Jeter came over to sign for the kids. As I fumbled my yearbook trying to find his page, he said he’d sign for me after he signed for the kids. I talked with him too for a few minutes (all the time calling him Mr. Jeter), but then, he too got called away. As a side note, I’d have happily traded my Mike Ferraro autograph for either of these two.

The next day, I went with a group of friends from my dorm floor. One of them had wanted to see Doc Gooden pitch his first home start. He got his wish and Doc was atrocious. But it was fun going to the Stadium on a Friday night with a bunch of college buddies.

Went to a few other games in ’96. The only other memorable one was on August 21, a day game vs. the Angels (not sure what municipality they were affiliated with at the time). My father, brother and I went- and our tickets were in left field, in fair territory. The Yankees lost (7-1), with their only run coming off a Derek Jeter homerun in the first Yankees AB of the game. But it was a home run by the Angels that made the game memorable. Like I said, we were sitting in the outfield main level seats. My father was on the aisle, I was a few seats in and my brother was between us. Chili Davis hit the first of his two home runs in the first inning. The ball was coming right for us…everyone in our area went grabbing for the ball. But no one got it on the fly. The ball bounced off the concrete and hit my father in the arm. My father, who was just sitting there, looked shocked and said “what was that?” Evidently lost in the excitement, he didn’t even realize he had been hit by a home run.

With the Yankees winning the World Series in ’96, and my brother and I getting even more into the game my father thought it would be a great time to get tickets on a regular basis. He went for the ‘Sunday Plan’ and for two seasons we were regulars in Section 22 in the second level on Sunday afternoons.

Even though we lived in Jersey and Sunday games started at 1:05, every day we had tickets for, we would leave early enough to get there by 11:30 (noon at the latest). We even developed routines–if the line for Monument Park wasn’t that long, we’d stop by and visit. We’d go to one of the gift shops, where I’d get a program, and my father would buy a handful of Yankees pens (he still buys pens on a regular basis) Then we’d work our way to the sausage stand behind the press box for some sausage. Then we’d stop at our seats, watch BP and eat. And just as the three of us had a game routine, I had an eating routine. Back then, I was in college and had a bottomless stomach. I also was able to quickly make it from our seats to one of my favorite food locations without missing much of the action. And if something big was happening, I knew where to stop to look- either at the handicap accessible location behind home plate or at a TV somewhere. But my food routine usually involved a visit to the Stadium Food Court in the third or so inning for a Roast Beef and Cheese sandwich (and I was very unhappy when they discontinued the roast beef and cheese in September of 98 for a variety of wraps) and then a visit to the outside cafe after Cotton Eyed Joe for a barbecued chicken sandwich. And I also had my share of hot dogs. I lived the George Costanza philosophy of ballpark food not being real food.

The sausage stand near the press box (I believe it was called Sausages, Etc. back in the day) was always a great place to meet “famous” people. I’ve seen Joe Morgan, John Sterling, Michael Kay and other local sports reporters waiting in line. Everyone was approachable–but I guess you can’t not talk to people while standing in line, waiting for sausage.

We had a lot of fun in those seats for the Sunday games. For one game in late April ’97, my father couldn’t make it, so he gave the tickets to me and I brought along a good friend from college (Jon). Jon was from Wisconsin and wasn’t a baseball or Yankees fan…that is, until the game was over. It was fun being along for his first time at the Stadium. There was another time that my father didn’t use the tickets that I’m kind of bitter about. In May of ’98, my father gave the tickets to his secretary so she could take her granddaughter to Beanie Baby Day. Of course, he let her…and we missed David Wells’ perfect game.

Even with the Sunday tickets, I found other ways to go to the stadium. Every now and then, Seton Hall would sponsor trips to the stadium. And the tickets were just like the ones we’d get at the YMCA camp- all the way in the upper deck. The only real memorable time with school was on September 4, ’97. The Yankees lost the game to the Orioles. But my friends and I were on the Jumbotron during Cotton-Eyed Joe. And people at school had seen us, because Channel 11 used a shot of us dancing like maniacs while coming back from a commercial–so we were like minor celebrities for a day or two.

Sometime in ’97 (actually, May 21), a friend and I decided at about 5 in the afternoon to go to that night’s game at the stadium. We were ready to buy upper deck tickets, but while standing in line at one of the ticket booths, we were waved over by this older guy in another booth. He said he just got two tickets, field level, behind home plate and we could have them for $35. We went for it, and our tickets were two rows behind home plate. It was pretty incredible because Roger Clemens was pitching, and even though he was playing for the Blue Jays, it felt like he was pitching right at us. He struck out a lot of Yankees that day (12, according to retrosheet), and the Yankees lost (but with Kenny Rogers on the mound, they really had no chance of winning).

My first post season game at the stadium was also in ’97. But instead of being two rows behind home plate, we were two rows from the back wall of the upper deck. But we were straight away behind home. That was the game where Raines, Jeter and O’Neill hit back-to-back-to-back home runs, and the stadium was electric that night.

We also had the Sunday tickets for ’98, and got to go to Opening Day that year. That was a long game, with the two teams scoring 30 runs in nine innings. I think we might have left that one early. A few weeks after Opening Day, the stadium was closed because of a steel beam that fell out of the upper deck. I later found out it fell on and crushed the seat that was right in front of mine (and when it was empty, I’d put my feet on it). Even after the stadium was reopened and the seat replaced, it was still pretty freaky thinking that a steel beam crushed the seat right in front of mine. Of course, knowing that George sat in that seat the day the stadium was reopened, I began to re-think placing my feet on the seat. But after a few games, I was back to doing it again.

I went to a game in each round of the post season that year–Game 3 of the ALDS, Game 6 of the ACLS (with my Met-loving roomate), and Game 1 of the WS. ’98 was a really special year, and I remember in June or so of that year, everyone just having the feeling that the Yankees were doing something special. And each time I was there that year, the Stadium had that feeling.

Most of the few games I went to in ’99 were unmemorable ones–I think psychologically, I still hadn’t let go of ’98. The only memorable one was game 4 of the World Series. I was planning on watching it on TV, but my father called me at 3 or so in the afternoon saying he got two tickets–but he couldn’t go. So I called up my friend Jon (who was still in school, but by this time had converted to being a Yankee fan), drove up to Seton Hall, picked him up and drove to the Stadium. That was an incredible experience–and in a way, it exorcised the ghosts of ’98. There were rumors that Paul O’Neill’s dad was real sick and some other Yankees were going through personal issues, but to see them playing knowing all that was going on, and to actually be there on the day the Yankees won a World Series was the perfect experience as a fan.

On a side note, I still have a hand-copied “Ban Jim Grey” sign that someone was handing out outside the stadium.

Since Game 4 in ’99, I’ve only been to the Stadium once.

I moved to Ohio in January 2000. In the summer of 2002, Jon (who had moved back home to Wisconsin) and I planned a trip to go out to NY and go to a game. We got tickets for August 9- the Yankees were hosting the A’s. It was a Friday night and our seats were in the upper deck. The game went 16 innings, and Jon and I stayed for the whole thing. The Yankees lost, but at least we got our moneys worth.

It’s hard to believe it’s been five years since I’ve been to the Stadium. I’m sad to see it go, but I know that it’s time for a new one. I’d like to go back one more time next year. But if I don’t, at least I have memories of my father getting hit by a Chili Davis home run, being on the big screen, and game 4.