Writing Class here we come

Grace and greetings.

Kim and I signed up for a creative writing class, to tell our own story. It will only be for five weeks, until the middle of April. This morning, we started out with an in class assignment to write a 500 word earliest memory or a fond memory. Of course this is the first day of Spring, so eventually my thoughts went to baseball. Since it is only -35 this morning, we are not playing ball too soon here. I have included a couple of pictures of the ball field here in Barrow to go with the story, since I do not have a picture of "The Big A". Though this is not my earliest memory, it is a memory I thought I could write for 500 words. As it turned out, I was the only one in the class of eight to get a 500 word story in the hour allocated. Here is my story before it is graded...

"The Big A"

Being a Cub Scout, my project is about one of the two baseball teams in Southern California area, the Los Angeles Angels. Since it is just before spring training, I search the newspapers every morning to cut and paste to complete my project.

I cut out articles with pictures, paste them into the booklet and sometimes write my reactions. Coach Bill Rigney is standing in this picture with outfielder Jay Johnstone; still not much to go on for my report. I find articles that talk about the owner, Gene Autry; some say he use to act or something.

As a ten year old, I am fairly independent; I get to walk the six blocks to the grocery store. The poster in the front window is advertising a raffle to win tickets to the the Angels first game at the newly built Anaheim Stadium; "The Big A," stands just outside the center-field wall.

I fill out a raffle ticket, slowly filling out my name so that when I win, they will call it out loudly, "And the winner is David Green." The drawing is not for a few more weeks, but I hope to win anyway.

Of course nothing comes about as we think it out in our heads, but in this one instance, I won. What a way to finish off my project, going to the first game at Anaheim Stadium with the newly named California Angels.

The day of the game finally arrives; I wait anxiously as my grandparents drive down to Westminster from Pasadena. My father seems very calm, as he usually is. It is agreed then, my grandfather, Dad and I get to go to the game, after all, I won the ticket. My little sister and brother are staying home with Mom and Grandma.

The drive on the freeway seems confusing, why is it taking so long to get there? Can't we get there any quicker? It seems as though my Dad will never get there. My Grandpa sits in the front seat next to my Dad, as I get the whole back seat to myself, watching the trees and buildings go by slowly. It is another beautiful sunny day in Southern California.

I can see the "Big A" from the freeway, but I also see the long line of other cars. As long as we get in, I can hardly wait to see my first professional baseball game in person.

Finally we get to the front of the line of cars, my Dad pulls up to the man directing the cars where to go and park. Some of the other cars are just driving away. My Dad is talking to the person, I can't hear everything...the game is sold out, we can't get in? But I have a ticket!

"Dad, tell him I already have a ticket!" Dad is already pulling away, "Dad tell him I won the ticket." My Grandpa turns to me and explains that there is no room for all three of us, so we can not get into the game.

Not to lose the whole day, Grandpa suggested another favorite game of mine, bowling. It is not the baseball game, but I get to spend time bowling with my Grandpa and Dad.

(Though the story is true, I took some liberties, my Cub Scout project was actually the year or two before the opening of Anaheim Stadium. Also, this was before I started going by my middle name, Ian, which was not until the fifth grade).

Peace and blessings