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Sunday, Aug. 3, 2003 - 3:04 p.m. When you know who your friends are
Your first trip to the Field of Dreams in Iowa should be in the late summer. You have to see it with the corn growing in the outfield, just like in the movie, or you may be sorely disappointed. If your plans dictate that you visit earlier than probably mid to late July (I don't know, I'm not a farmer), be sure you're prepared for it to look a little different than it does on your DVD copy of the movie. Also, be sure to familiarize yourself with James Earl Jones' monologue on the importance of the game, because it will be running through your mind all afternoon.
There's a T-Mobile commerical running on television now wherein a young guy -- probably a recent college graduate, I suspect we're supposed to believe -- is shown all over America calling long-lost cousins, friends and classmates looking for a couch or floorspace or, in the best case, a guest room to crash in for a few days on his odyssey. It appears that in most cases, he's calling them on short notice: "I'm outside Phoenix!" I know that feeling. It's a great feeling when you can call someone up and say, "I'm in town! Can I stop by?" and your friend replies, "Absolutely! I can't wait to see you!" The only snags in my trip through America came between Denver and Chicago. In Denver, I couldn't get a hold of Greg or Suzanne in Kansas until Suzanne called me the night before I was to head east to her hometown of Overland Park. She was home that night, but was leaving the next day for a weekend away. Greg, she suspected (he never got back to me) was away with his family. So I stayed in a hotel; no big deal. At that Kansas hotel, I managed to finally contact Joe in northwestern Illinois, who would be home the next day when I'd be coming by after stopping at the Field of Dreams and was happy to have me stay. But I still couldn't get in touch with Michelle near Chicago. If I didn't, I'd probably have to go directly from Joe's farm in Elizabeth to South Bend, not getting any time to visit Michelle or Chicago (the latter of which I never did do on this trip). But on Sunday, just after lunch, I reached Michelle at home. I told her I'd be arriving near Chicago in a couple of hours. That surprised her a little, but she still offered me the guest room for a couple of days despite the short notice. I felt bad, but she -- and her parents -- reassured me it was no problem, and it seemed like an accomplishment, an affirmation of not just my friendship with Michelle but of many of my college relationships that I could do such a thing as call someone nearly out of the blue (everyone I saw on the trip knew what I was doing and that I'd probably be coming by their town) and roll into town the next day or sooner.
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