I’m sitting out in my yard and listening to excited sounds from the field next door. The neighborhood boys and young men are playing Sunday morning cricket. Every so often, a cheer goes up, or an argument starts. The whack of the ball, the shouts, “I’ve got it!” Meanwhile, Jed, Abe, and their friend race past me chasing the new soccer ball we bought them last week. They are desperately trying to remember the basics: pass the ball, don’t grab it with your hands, keep it in bounds. The bounds happen to be my flower beds. They’re taking a beating.
If I close my eyes, I can imagine I’m in a community park, listening to the neighborhood kids playing baseball and Jed and Abe practicing to join a community team. Then I hear the autorickshaw motor past and honk. Because you can’t come around a corner without honking. I see the dome of the mosque across the lake. A shepherd starts calling to his goats and they poke their heads over the garden wall to nibble on the ivy. Soon, my train of thought will be interrupted by the call to prayer. I remember where I am.
This morning, I sat in my living room, computer playing the radio channel I paid for. I was listening to the Cubs win the pennant for the first time in my Mother’s lifetime. In our family, Mom was always the sports fan. She taught her girls well and we all like to watch sports. In the old days, we only had a radio, so we would listen to the games. Good old WGN broadcast right into our kitchen and made Cubs fans of most of the Northern Illinois plains. My Grandparents even rooted for the Cubs, though they’d not ever seen them win. They lived their whole lives without a World Series win.
I can remember a few times when we borrowed a TV from a friend or from the video rental store when the World Series or the Super Bowl were on. That was before you had to have cable to watch the games. After we got our own black-and-white TV with 3 channels, we’d watch sports after church. Whatever season it was, we’d sit and eat popcorn for lunch. We’d alternately nap and cheer while the players did their best. The Bears won the Super Bowl during the black and white days. After we finally inherited a color TV, I can remember the Bulls winning their 5 championships. Boy, oh, boy, were those fun years for our family. Now, my Mom is back to listening on the radio since the cable channels have taken over most of the sports. And here I am, on the other side of the world listening with her!
There are a lot of things I expected in this cross-cultural life. I expected missing family. I expected being confused a lot. I expected feeling torn between the two worlds that are my home. I expected struggles with how to raise our kids and school them. I never expected this strange nostalgia and homesickness and secret rejoicing of being a Cubs fan in the Western Hemisphere. No one here cares. No one here has any idea. Baseball is that weird, boring, confusing cousin of cricket. And the Cubs? We don’t like bears around here, they kill our sheep and sometimes attack villagers. Their babies only grow up to be full-grown menaces. No one here has any idea that something historic just happened. No one here has any idea that I’m so proud of ‘my’ team. And how can I even call them that? I haven’t listened to them for about 4 years! This year is the first time I sprung for the audio package.
And yet, here I am rejoicing. Texting my family and Skyping my Mom and trying to figure out how to watch the World Series. If we were in Delhi, I’m sure we could watch it at the Embassy or something. If we had cable TV, maybe they’d show it on some remote sports channel. Maybe I could watch it illegally on my laptop somehow, but I’d probably just end up getting hacked and catching a virus.
So, starting Wednesday morning (because that’s the time it will be over here), I’m going to be glued to the radio like the last Cubs fans who cheered them at the World Series. If only to be close to those I love through something that connects our culture. I don’t know all the players’ names yet, or even the manager’s. I have no idea about the Cleveland team. But, I’m still a small-town Illinois girl who loves the sound of Cubs announcers on the radio. I still hope they can do it for my Mom, my sisters, and all those fans who have been waiting their whole lives. Not because it matters for eternity, but because it’s fun to watch. . . or listen to!
Back when Jed was younger than Lucy and knew more about baseball than he does now. . . we'll be starting to remedy that on Wednesday!
If I close my eyes, I can imagine I’m in a community park, listening to the neighborhood kids playing baseball and Jed and Abe practicing to join a community team. Then I hear the autorickshaw motor past and honk. Because you can’t come around a corner without honking. I see the dome of the mosque across the lake. A shepherd starts calling to his goats and they poke their heads over the garden wall to nibble on the ivy. Soon, my train of thought will be interrupted by the call to prayer. I remember where I am.
This morning, I sat in my living room, computer playing the radio channel I paid for. I was listening to the Cubs win the pennant for the first time in my Mother’s lifetime. In our family, Mom was always the sports fan. She taught her girls well and we all like to watch sports. In the old days, we only had a radio, so we would listen to the games. Good old WGN broadcast right into our kitchen and made Cubs fans of most of the Northern Illinois plains. My Grandparents even rooted for the Cubs, though they’d not ever seen them win. They lived their whole lives without a World Series win.
I can remember a few times when we borrowed a TV from a friend or from the video rental store when the World Series or the Super Bowl were on. That was before you had to have cable to watch the games. After we got our own black-and-white TV with 3 channels, we’d watch sports after church. Whatever season it was, we’d sit and eat popcorn for lunch. We’d alternately nap and cheer while the players did their best. The Bears won the Super Bowl during the black and white days. After we finally inherited a color TV, I can remember the Bulls winning their 5 championships. Boy, oh, boy, were those fun years for our family. Now, my Mom is back to listening on the radio since the cable channels have taken over most of the sports. And here I am, on the other side of the world listening with her!
There are a lot of things I expected in this cross-cultural life. I expected missing family. I expected being confused a lot. I expected feeling torn between the two worlds that are my home. I expected struggles with how to raise our kids and school them. I never expected this strange nostalgia and homesickness and secret rejoicing of being a Cubs fan in the Western Hemisphere. No one here cares. No one here has any idea. Baseball is that weird, boring, confusing cousin of cricket. And the Cubs? We don’t like bears around here, they kill our sheep and sometimes attack villagers. Their babies only grow up to be full-grown menaces. No one here has any idea that something historic just happened. No one here has any idea that I’m so proud of ‘my’ team. And how can I even call them that? I haven’t listened to them for about 4 years! This year is the first time I sprung for the audio package.
And yet, here I am rejoicing. Texting my family and Skyping my Mom and trying to figure out how to watch the World Series. If we were in Delhi, I’m sure we could watch it at the Embassy or something. If we had cable TV, maybe they’d show it on some remote sports channel. Maybe I could watch it illegally on my laptop somehow, but I’d probably just end up getting hacked and catching a virus.
So, starting Wednesday morning (because that’s the time it will be over here), I’m going to be glued to the radio like the last Cubs fans who cheered them at the World Series. If only to be close to those I love through something that connects our culture. I don’t know all the players’ names yet, or even the manager’s. I have no idea about the Cleveland team. But, I’m still a small-town Illinois girl who loves the sound of Cubs announcers on the radio. I still hope they can do it for my Mom, my sisters, and all those fans who have been waiting their whole lives. Not because it matters for eternity, but because it’s fun to watch. . . or listen to!
Back when Jed was younger than Lucy and knew more about baseball than he does now. . . we'll be starting to remedy that on Wednesday!
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